Most of my childhood memories, those that make me happy, are of my friends. Sure I have a few with family... but whatever started out as "fun times" often ended in "punishment". My dad never liked my mom's family. Not that they were bad people, but the fact that he didn't like the "regional accent" and that if they saw a wrong being committed they weren't the kind of people who would stay quiet about it, made him not like them. There were other reasons, he also considered all of her sisters (but 1) to be "sluts" as they had different partners (not simultaneously, but basically sex before marriage). So, I didn't see them often growing up. Scratch that. "Often" in and of itself, is too many times. To say "see them rarely", would probably be more accurate.
We lived in a different province, alone, with no other relatives. One could always say, even if you live somewhere where you had no family, they were only "a phone call away". Not so, when you don't have a phone...
I'm trying to think back. I can recall visiting my mom's family only twice, but I know we went there 3 times. Only because the first time was "documented" of sorts, by pictures. I was too young to remember. So, that means I saw my grandfather (who was also my godfather) twice before he died. The third time we visited, was for his funeral and only because my mom fought long and hard to convince my dad to go.
You might be inclined to say "why did she have to convince him", but that's because you don't know what our living conditions were. We weren't allowed out of the house if my dad wasn't home. If he was gone on one of his many long walks, and someone came knocking at the door, we were under no condition allowed to open the door to whoever was on the other side. His own mother visiting, was no exception. That was changed thanks to my mom, because one time his mother did end up coming to visit while my dad wasn't home. My mom took pity on her, how can you let an elderly woman wait outdoors on the balcony until he'd come home. So, she let her in. When my dad came home, he was furious. But she had been able to convince him, that at the very least for his own mother he shouldn't be so mean. I digress.
On the time we did visit my mom's family, the time I remember seeing my grandfather, I think I was no older than 5. It was Christmas time. We had originally shown up at my nanna's (dad's mom) home. However, she had left with the "golden years" club to Florida. Seeing as there was no one there, we headed to my grandparents' place. I remember we took the train. That there was no empty place to sit, so we all stood, but then my dad offered me his knee (hoisted up) so that I could sit down.
We reached my grandparents' place, were given a room. I got to meet my cousins. I can't remember how long we had been there, but one day my grandfather was about to leave to go to the grocery store. He asked me if I'd like to go with him, I agreed. He was the nicest grandfather you could have. A person who genuinely loved children. A very sweet man. We were both really happy, I got into the car and off we went. I don't really remember what we did while shopping, I just remember feeling happy when we arrived back home and were pulling into the driveway. Happy, until I was pulled out of the car, dragged inside and into the basement.. Where I was yelled at and beaten so badly that I had to spend the rest of the day hidden away. Fun fun. I had to spend the rest of our stay there, either by my dad's side or upstairs in the room we were staying in.
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